Love Is Flawed
by Miss Peg
Summary: Love isn't perfect, in fact it's severely flawed. You know that too but you love her anyway. / One-Shot / Naomi/Emily


**Disclaimer****: I don't own Skins, hopefully they're nicer than me in series 4.**

**Notes****: This is a one-shot. It is angst-ridden. Enjoy. If that's possible. Sorry! Oh and please review, I've gone for a completely different style with this fic so I do want to know if you like it or not. Apologies for uploading this twice - I did a bit of rearranging and only 4 people were listed as having read it so I thought it okay.**

**Title****: ****Love Is Flawed**

You know that you love her and she loves you and that's the most important thing in the world.

Love isn't perfect, in fact it's severely flawed. You know that too but you love her anyway.

There was a time when you were both extremely happy and the world was perfect, the bubble you lived in together was perfect. It was filled with the love you shared, with the memories of becoming a couple, of you deciding that Emily was right and you could be brave and want her back.

You knew that love was enough because in those few weeks over the summer, you were blissfully happy and there was nothing stopping you from being that way, no one to bring you down. It was a honeymoon period that didn't properly end when Emily came back off a holiday with her family. It re-lighted your desire to be with her, to want to kiss her at every available opportunity and have her sleep in your bed more than often. Emily telling her parents only put a slight damper on things. They disliked what was happening, couldn't seem to find any of it remotely funny or fantastic, not like your mum who you realise is rather fucking wonderful for not being a bitch about your undefined sexuality. It didn't matter to her if you were gay, it didn't matter when you thought you were straight and as she told you often, the indecisiveness didn't matter either as long as you were happy and you _were _happy.

You were both happy. Your final year of college started and you were in love. Somehow you managed to get okay grades in the exams you did take and the one you didn't, it didn't matter anyway because you decided to drop that subject and focus on the other three. You were choosing universities, Emily was choosing with you. It wasn't a solo decision and neither of you thought it would be. You both chose your top three and then you chose another three that were either very close to, or actually were each other's choices. It was a carefully calculated decision that took thought and planning. The teachers routinely said not to plan your choices on other people but that didn't matter to you. You were in love and nothing was going to stop you doing what you wanted.

Then winter arrived and somehow Emily's oh so lovely twin sister became involved with Cook, something every single person in the group expected to happen least out of every possibility, even the one where JJ actually got a chance with Effy. Yet they seemed to work. He brought out her fun side which took that homophobic stick right out of her butt and she was actually acting like a human being, even going as far as being nice to you "just for Emily" she said, though you know she likes you more than she makes out because this new Katie is actually a lot nicer. She's still got one hell of a bitchy tongue but it's not a default setting anymore.

By Christmas everything was perfect. You were still in love and it was the first Christmas where you didn't wish that Turkeys didn't suffer and trees weren't chopped down for decoration or to produce the extra cards. Instead you thought of Emily and all the things about her that made you happy. The fact that she didn't buy you a Christmas card because she knows you're "all about saving the world" even though she wanted to. Instead she wrote you a letter full of sweet messages that she wrote "would have been in twenty-six different cards, one for each week they were officially together". It was romantic and though you're a cynical person about a lot of things, you no longer feel that way about showing how much you love someone. In fact despite Emily's attempts at making her Christmas 'green' you insist that it is okay for her family to have a real tree because they do smell quite beautiful and maybe one year couldn't hurt. You actually ignore her telling you that they'd had a real tree for the past seventeen years because you just want to make her happy.

You can't spend Christmas Day together so you make Christmas Eve an extension of it. You wake up together in your bed and Emily is surprised because you've taken the time, after she went to sleep, to decorate the room to look a little bit special and somewhat like Christmas, after weeks of nagging and you telling her that "I don't follow Christmas traditions, there's no point" but you want to make it memorable and beautiful like it will be your only Christmas together. She is more than surprised, she is over the moon and happily tells you so with a number of kisses that get you a little too excited for what you'd been planning. In the end the plans change and you give in to desire because quite frankly, who wouldn't with Emily there kissing your stomach until you squirm?! You spend a lazy morning in bed, you exchange your gifts and can't quite believe it when Emily hands you a wrapped up copy of a book you once mentioned losing on a lazy Sunday afternoon in the park and you can't even begin to describe just how beautiful you find that moment because it's not that exciting a present since you only half enjoyed reading the chapters you got through, but for Emily to remember nearly five months later and for her to have wrapped it so carefully and for the tiny message scribbled in the front saying 'For all the lazy Sundays we will spend together in the park, for the fact you will lose a book to chase after a boy who stole my bag and for the fact that I love you now and always will' you know you will cherish it like you cherish your signed copy of a 1950s children's book your mum used to read to you as a child or the First Edition of 'The Catcher In The Rye' that your Grandfather left you in his will.

You go downstairs and sit in the kitchen whilst cooking up a feast because your mother and her boyfriend have thankfully made themselves scarce for the whole day to give you what you want. Emily sits at the table and comments on everything; the size of the pieces of carrot, the thickness of the gravy, the slightly burnt turkey. You know she's only joking, playing a game to make herself laugh and you don't mind because she could insult your cooking every day for the rest of your lives and it wouldn't matter. After the meal you have dessert which isn't cake, or pudding, it is whipped cream and strawberries and Emily's naked skin on your bedroom floor because the only sweet you need is her.

Then the phone call came in and the wonderful, beautiful, bubbled world that was created, burst in an instant. There had been an accident. Katie and Cook had been out driving in his car and they'd hit some black ice on the road. You don't hesitate to get dressed, to hand Emily her clothes. You don't stop to worry that you haven't actually passed your driving test even though you're a perfectly good driver, you just grab your mother's car keys and drive Emily to the hospital. She doesn't cry because she doesn't know what's going on, instead she turns on the radio and you notice a few stray drops when a song that reminds even you of her twin is played. It's Christmas Eve, it's supposed to be an enjoyable occasion. But neither of you care that it isn't a normal day because it's been ruined and your memories are tainted by whatever horrible accident occurred.

You arrive at the hospital quickly and the moment you see Emily's parents and brother looking broken, you know it's bad. Your instinct is to wrap an arm around Emily's waist and it's a good thing you do because it's not just serious, it's fatal. Neither of them survived. You feel yourself growing weak, you can't even imagine what must be going through Emily's head. You don't have a second to guess because the sheer weight of her falling in your arms is enough to let you know that the world has changed and will never, ever be the same again. Her parents suggest that you leave them to grieve as a family, but you can't. You can't leave your beautiful girlfriend looking so broken and not because it breaks you to see, but because she is holding your wrist so tightly that not even a chainsaw could separate her from you.

You spend Christmas Day at their house because Emily just won't let you go home, won't even let you sleep because she demands your attention simply for the fact that she herself is awake. You feel guilty that your mother and her boyfriend are spending Christmas alone, without you there, but it doesn't really matter when you see the Christmas presents under the Fitch's tree on Christmas morning. You feel more guilty for the fact that nobody will open them, that they're even there at all when they will only make them all more upset.

Emily doesn't even cry, she doesn't get upset and you don't have to comfort her. She just requests that you be there, that you sit with her night and day and you don't resist because you want to be there for her, you need to be there for her. Even though your own grief is finally hitting you. Katie wasn't really your friend, but you want to cry for her and Cook, your grief for him is so incredibly worse than you ever thought it would be. Yet you don't leave Emily's side because you know you have to be with her because to love someone is to support them, no matter what.

You fall asleep on the sofa on Boxing Day, your hand still tucked carefully up with Emily's. You have a nightmare about the accident and you can't help but cry. Your heart isn't as complete as you wish it would be and Emily doesn't comfort you. You wish that she would because you know love goes both ways. But you can't blame her for having grief twice as bad as you. You still wish for some time alone to grieve, to curl up in your bed and cry for the loss of your friends. You stay at Emily's. You don't leave her alone because you know her grief is more severe, more important than yours and you don't want to separate yourself from her.

There are a few days between Christmas and New Year where your lives return to a weird sort of normal. You sleep in the same bed, you get up and have breakfast, you spend the day together watching repeats on television and then you curl up in bed again and go to sleep. Neither of you want to celebrate the new year, you know that it's going to be a bad one before it's even started and you worry that it's going to be the last one you have with Emily. You can tell she's so consumed by her grief that nothing, not even you can get through to her. You look at her sometimes just to search for the Emily you know but you can't find her, you know she's too lost and you have no idea how to get her back. But you love her anyway, unconditionally because you know she needs help finding her way back and that's all that matters.

New Years Eve you spend in her bedroom with six bottles of Coke and a couple of bottles of Vodka. By midnight you wonder why there's hardly anything left when you've had just four drinks. Your head isn't even affected by the alcohol. Emily, on the other hand, can't even walk properly and you realise that she had at least three drinks to every one of yours. You wonder how she's even conscious. You had planned to spend New Years Eve together, to get drunk, have a couple of spliffs and have sex as the New Year arrived. You don't have sex. You've not had sex since Christmas Eve. You don't expect to have it anytime soon.

The funerals were hours apart and though you want to go to Cook's too, you stay with Emily throughout the service. You let her fingernails dig into the skin on your hand, feel the skin break because she needs to let out her grief and if you have to suffer slightly because of it, you don't care because you love her and that's all that matters. You manage to slip away from the wake when everybody is eating, inform Emily that you're going for a cigarette when really you run the mile between the pub and the crematorium that Cook's funeral is being held at. You're late. You slip into the back and listen as they tell you things you never knew about your friend, yet you feel guilty because you left Emily alone for longer than you'd ever promised yourself to. You cry. Not only for Cook, but for Katie and for the guilt you feel over Emily.

You go back to the pub afterwards and the wake is over. Emily is gone. You get a taxi to her house and you're surprised that your girlfriend is sat on the doorstep with a bag tucked under her arm. Her face is red from the tears she'd cried, broken from the grief and hopeful when she sees you. You ask no questions. You guide her to the taxi because you're sure she probably couldn't walk unaided. You hold her hand tightly in the back of the taxi because it's all you can do and because love is about being there for the other person, even if you have a million questions you want to ask.

You give her the bottle of Vodka even though you know it's the wrong thing to do. You watch as she drinks it all, every last drop, in a short space of time. You stupidly decide to ask her "why are you here and not at home?" to which she gets angry and you can't do anything but watch her drunken rant that "Katie is fucking gone and she's never coming back and my fucking parents think it's my fault. If I wasn't fucking gay then none of this would have happened." It's the last thing you expected her to say but you're extremely grateful that she spoke at all, that her first real sentence since her sister's death tells you exactly what is inside her head for the first time. You try to wrap your arms around her because you imagine the thing to come next would be more tears, but she doesn't want comfort. She pushes you off and you fall down, hitting your arm on the side of your bed. It fucking hurts but you ignore the pain because it was an accident and Emily hadn't mean to do it. You wait for an apology that never even comes and you brush it off as Emily being lost in her grief. You know that she's lost and all you want to do is help her find her way because you love her and that should be enough. You let her know, from a distance, that you will "always be there for you no matter what" and you watch her nod until she curls up in your bed and falls into a drunken stupor.

By February you're used to watching Emily get drunk and fall into bed in an alcohol induced coma. You're used to watching her get angry until she throws something - usually clothes - across the room. It scares you because Emily isn't an aggressive person but you can't blame her because the last six weeks haven't been easy on anyone. You feel alone even though you spend every single day with Emily. You try to focus on college but she doesn't go anymore and that changes all of your plans. You hate going because your group has stopped spending time together. Effy and Pandora don't even talk anymore, JJ and Freddie seem so incredibly close that you suspect Cook's death changed their relationship in a good way. There are two incredibly large holes in your lives and no one knew how to repair them, so instead you just let them get bigger until you all subconsciously went your separate ways. You miss people. You miss parties and you miss knowing you have friends in your life.

One day you suggest that Emily speak to a counsellor because you can't handle her violent outbursts or her drinking anymore. You get worried that Emily is going to hurt herself when she punches the wall and her knuckles become red and puffy. She won't let you take her to the hospital. You know why. You know you don't really want to set foot in that place ever again, even though you know you should. When you give Emily a number for a counsellor that Doug at college gave you, she rips it up and throws it in your face. You can tell she's been drinking because she sways a little and almost falls against you. You try telling her that it could help and that she might feel better about everything if she just speaks to someone about it. She pushes you so hard and so quickly in the chest that you feel like she's hit you. You bite your lip to stop from crying because you can't stand seeing her that way. You hate that she is broken. But the only thing that matters to you is that you're there for her because no one else is.

You try again. You don't want to let the subject go because you want Emily to get better, to move on from her grief. You tell that to Emily. You watch as the alcohol in her system spurs her on. You feel her hands in your hair, twisting so hard that you think she's going to pull out clumps if she doesn't let go soon. You feel her body pushing against you until you hit the door and the handle stabs you in the back. The pain is unbearable and you feel yourself double over. You look into Emily's eyes as she stares at you, taken aback by what she's just done. She doesn't look regretful. You can't look away because if you do you think it will be a betrayal. You love her and you will be there for her through the hardest time of her life. You're in pain. You know you should go to the hospital because you can't even walk without your side hurting. But you can't leave Emily.

A number of kisses wake you up in the morning and you're surprised by the small smile on Emily's face. She apologises for being drunk, informs you that she doesn't really remember much about the night before and that she hopes she didn't say or do anything to upset you. You tell her it's okay, that it doesn't matter. You let her kiss you again, you let her slide her hands down the sides of your body even though it hurts when she touches your left hip. You just ignore the pain because you know Emily didn't do it intentionally, that she's still so wrapped up in her grief that she can't help feel the need to drink.

Emily loves you and you love her back. You don't forget that. Even though it's been almost four months since you heard it. You still haven't had sex. You end up buying yourself a first aid kit on the way back from college because you now have more cuts and bruises than you ever had as a child. You're surprised. You don't even remember getting some of them. You try to forget that they were there because of Emily.

When Emily sees your naked body and the marks housed on your skin she is shocked. She doesn't even remember giving you them. You tell her you were beaten up by a bunch of teenagers on the high street because you can't bare the thought of telling her that you got them from her. You want to protect her from the pain. You know she's in enough of it, you don't want to make it worse. You're older, you're taller and physically have more strength. Your mind is in control unlike Emily's grief-stricken one. Yet her physical strength is incredible and you didn't expect it to be such. She's so small. Her frame is even tinier because she doesn't eat much anymore. That worries you but whenever you ask her about it she throws things. You stopped asking because it was safer that way. You notice sixteen bottles of Vodka a week go into the recycling box, your mother notices it too and you tell her that half of them are yours, just to stop her from worrying. But she worries anyway, says she doesn't "want either of you to end up drinking your problems away". You know she's right because you say the same thing to yourself about Emily.

There isn't a time when you can remember Emily being sober, except first thing in the morning. You know it's a problem, but you pretend it isn't. You enjoy the happier Emily you get after college when she's had a few drinks and she's loosened up. You start laughing together again. One evening you suggest she stop when she tries to finish off another bottle of Vodka. She pins you to the bed, holds your hands above your head and stares into your eyes. You can see that she's broken; her eyes look broken. You can see control in her eyes and it actually scares you because for the first time, for a brief second, you don't even see Emily anymore.

Then she kisses you and you make love. Only it's not love making, it's sex. Rough, painful sex. You feel her fingers digging into your skin, her teeth biting your thighs, her mouth sucking so hard on your neck that you know you're going to have a mark. You feel her pushing against you with such force, you feel her controlling the situation, stopping you from creating any passion. You almost feel violated. You ignore the feeling because it's Emily. _Your _Emily. She's beautiful, she's soft spoken, she's your sweet Emily who is hurting and in pain and is grieving over her fucking twin sister. You know she wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

But you feel like she is. You question yourself, second-guess your feelings because you wonder if love is supposed to be _this _hard. You ask yourself if someone loves you, is it still unintentional to create so many bruises, is it still unintentional to force herself on you and draw blood when she's supposed to be making love to you.

You understand that Emily needs you. You know you can't walk away because then Emily would be alone and without you she would have no one left. You tell Emily that because you're scared for her. You tell her that you love her and that you'll always be there for her because no one else is and it's important that you stick together. But Emily has already had more alcohol by then and she pins you back down and her mouth travels back over that tender spot where she tried to suck the blood from under your skin. You feel her teeth digging in. It hurts so much, you know it's wrong, but you let her do it. You want to fight her off but you're scared to upset her further. She eventually pulls away herself, rage burning in her eyes and the Emily you know isn't there. You swallow tears because there's nowhere else for them to go. You sit up in your bed and hold your knees because you actually feel completely worthless even though you _know _you're doing the right thing. Your hand covers the bleeding marks on your neck and you listen to Emily tell you that it's _your _fault. That "if you hadn't come back into our lives then I would have carried on as normal, I wouldn't be fucking gay and if I wasn't gay then none of this would have happened."

She leaves you alone. For the first time in weeks you watch her leave your bedroom and you curl up and cry.

You want to leave. You want to get away from Emily, from the pain, from the fear of saying the wrong thing. You're broken, battered and confused. You love Emily and you _know _she loves you too. You _know _that Emily still cares about you because why else would she still be in your house? You _know _she's lonely and broken and it's just the alcohol talking. You hate alcohol for the first time in your life. You want to hate Emily, but you can't. You love her too much. You still just want to fix her. You wish she'd stop drinking. You wish the alcohol wouldn't make her so aggressive, but you know she needs the alcohol to make herself feel better. You wonder when _you _stopped making her feel better. You still love her even though you know what she's doing is wrong. You can't help it. You want to protect her because at the end of the day she's lost everything. She has nothing left in her life and though you know it's just the alcohol talking, you can't help but realise that Emily is right. That _you _are the one to blame and in that moment you think that you deserve every single thing that Emily has done and even though you know it's wrong, you still love her and you _know _that she still loves you.


End file.
